The Love That Comes From Being a Lola

I spent many years being needed as a mother.

With five children, there was always someone to feed, somewhere to be, something to remember, or a problem that needed solving. Motherhood filled our home with noise, responsibility, and more love than I knew one life could hold.

Then the children grew up.

They began building lives of their own, and the role I had known for so long began to change. I was still their mother, of course. That never ends. But they no longer needed me in all the same ways.

And then I became Lola.

I knew I would love my grandchildren, but I did not understand how familiar and completely new that love would feel at the same time.

When I look at Romeo, Caleb, and Jack, I sometimes catch glimpses of the children I raised. A familiar expression, a way of smiling, or a small mannerism can carry me back many years without warning.

But they are also entirely themselves, and I have the joy of discovering who each of them is becoming.

I remember one quiet moment with Romeo. He had been playing nearby, and when he grew tired, he climbed into my lap without saying a word. His warm cheek rested against me, his hair brushed my chin, and for a few minutes I could hear nothing but his soft breathing.

As I held him, I felt the years fold together—the children I once carried and this little boy trusting me enough to rest.

That is the love of a Lola. It holds the memory of the child you raised and the wonder of the new child now in front of you.

One of the unexpected gifts of becoming a grandmother has been watching my own children become parents.

For so many years, I was the one worrying, comforting, and trying to determine what was best. Now I watch them do those things for their own children. I see their patience, their exhaustion, and the tenderness with which they are building their families.

There is something deeply moving about watching the love you gave your children become the love they now give to theirs.

Time also feels different as a grandmother.

When I was raising five children, life often moved too quickly for me to fully notice it. I loved those years, but I was also busy living them.

Now I notice the small hand resting in mine, the sleepy expression, the familiar toys left around the room, and the sound of laughter nearby. I understand how quickly each season will pass because I have watched childhood pass five times before.

The smallest things no longer feel small.

Children may not remember every visit or every detail, but I hope Romeo, Caleb, and Jack will remember how it felt to be with us.

Safe. Welcomed. Enjoyed. Loved.

I hope they always know that they never had to earn their place here. They belonged before they could understand what belonging meant.

Becoming Lola has not taken me back to the years when my children were small.

It has shown me what those years became.

The love I poured into my children did not end when they grew up. It traveled with them into the lives they built, the homes they created, and the children they now raise.

And when I hold my grandchildren, I feel the whole story at once—the children I once carried, the parents they became, and the new lives now resting in my arms.

I am Lola.

And the love that began with me as a mother is still moving forward.